


Be the Handmaid

by metaFour



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Time Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-29
Updated: 2011-09-29
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metaFour/pseuds/metaFour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story about talking to yourself, extending the middle finger to futility, moving sand, being a tool, appreciating small moments of happiness and beauty from unexpected sources, and meeting people.</p>
<p>To be less obtuse, this is about Aradia's ancestor; specifically about the end of one life and the beginning of another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're weird, and I'm going to be weird.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This conversation has already happened. This time, at least, it's going to make a lot more sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE: Now with 100% less highlighting to read white text. I hope you like green.
> 
> [Also available to read on tumblr](http://bethehandmaid.tumblr.com/post/10756701056/begin-game) in faux-adventure format. With even more green.
> 
> (Recommended soundtrack for this chapter: [The Box (Part One)](http://grooveshark.com/#/s/The+Box+part+I+/2KhoPV?src=5) by Orbital.)

>Be the Demoness.

She doesn't answer to that name, apparently.

>Be the Handmaid.

She doesn't care much for that name either, but she supposes it will suffice. It's not like she has a surfeit of superior names to choose from.

==>

You are standing on the roof of a large communal hive, located on the green moon orbiting the planet Alternia. The Felt's massive abode is nearby.

It is currently six centuries after the Reckoning wiped troll society off Alternia and the rest of the galaxy.

>Handmaid: Stare up at the night sky. 

You are already doing that.

One could say that you are expecting a guest and intend to greet them. However, one would be wrong. "Expecting" implies a degree of uncertainty that, for you, simply does not exist. That's just one of the perks of the power that you wield. You know that a guest will arrive soon and you know that you will be the one to greet them.

==>

You have seen with your own eyes the exact moment when Her Imperious Condescension will return to Alternia, and the moment, a few seconds later, when you will enter her battleship's throne room unbidden, to speak with the Condesce. You know with similar certainty that the Condesce, already one of the cruelest and most dangerous trolls in the galaxy when she was in full control of her wits, has been driven to the brink of madness by the boredom of a six-century interstellar voyage taken completely alone. You can see that your conversation with the Condesce (and, in fact, any conceivable conversation that you and she could hold under these circumstances) will culminate in violence, and you know precisely how your fight with the Condesce will end.

Knowing this, you are not concerned. In fact, you are eagerly anticipating this confrontation; perhaps (no, certainly) more than you have anticipated any prior event in your entire life.

>Handmaid: Skip to the end.

Don't be ridiculous.

Sure, as the Handmaid of a time-travelling demon, and an undisputed master of clockwork majyyks, it is not strictly necessary for you to wait like a plebeian for the arrival of the _Battleship Condescension_. You could, if you wished, travel forward to that moment right now, or even sooner.

But you are not going to do that. You are taking this moment to gather your thoughts before the meeting, to insure that your own eagerness does not cause any missteps on your part. You are going to fulfill the demon's final order with perfect composure.

Besides, you're up on this rooftop to speak to someone else first.

>Handmaid: Wait, what?

Ah, you forget occasionally that not everyone is gifted with the same sight that you are, and apologize for any confusion you unintentionally caused with your abrupt mid-exposition subject shift.

In any case, this guest you're about to greet has nothing whatsoever to do with the demon's orders. Temporal inevitability speaks to you with a far more compelling-

Oh look there she is now.

>Handmaid: Regard guest.

An audible crackle and a brief flash of multicolored light herald your guest's arrival.

She looks remarkably like you. Her dress, the same cut and color as your own, is stained with blue blood. Her horns are smaller than yours, but are curved in the same shape. Her hair is cut in the same style as yours, but the bangs framing her face are not as long and oh for crying out loud you're not fooling anyone she's just you from the past.

She appears to be ignoring you.

>Be the past Handmaid.

You are now-

oh fuck

what have you done

>Past Handmaid: Stare blankly at the Felt Manor for at least half an hour.

blood everywhere

it was so easy

what have

oh fuck

> \--CURRENT anachronicAcolyte [CAA] began speaking with PAST anachronicAcolyte [PAA]\--
> 
> CAA: y0u d0 n0t understand why y0u came here  
>  PAA: aaaaaaaaa!

>Past Handmaid: Flip the fuck out.

Please. You were trained better than that. Instead of flailing about randomly in a blind panic, you teleport twenty feet to the side. You reappear, crouched and ready for strife, with a cuestickwand in each hand.

Then you recognize the person who sneaked up on you, and you lower your weapons.

> PAA: wh0 are-  
>  PAA: 0h  
>  PAA: y0ure me  
>  PAA: but fr0m the future  
>  CAA: 0_0  
>  PAA: c0rrect?  
>  CAA: y0u d0 n0t understand why y0u are here but i think i d0  
>  PAA: what

>Past Handmaid: Listen to your future self.

> CAA: that mansi0n is where y0u spent y0ur childh00d  
>  CAA: the site 0f a life c0nsisting 0f is0lati0n  
>  CAA: training f0r a future 0f servitude  
>  CAA: deprivati0n 0f luxuries like furniture 0r breathable air  
>  CAA: fights with y0ur lusus  
>  CAA: speaking 0f which  
>  CAA: y0u d0 realize h0w very unusual it is f0r a tr0ll t0 deliberately try t0 kill their lusus  
>  CAA: which is exactly what y0u tried t0 d0 every time  
>  PAA: yes  
>  PAA: but in 0ur defense he was a terrible lusus  
>  CAA: yes a terrible lusus and a terrible childh00d  
>  CAA: y0u wished t0 escape  
>  CAA: t0 be free 0f the whip  
>  CAA: but  
>  CAA: s0metimes instead  
>  CAA: y0u wished that the whip was in y0ur hands

==>

> CAA: and n0w it is  
>  CAA: y0ur servitude has begun in earnest and the terms 0f servitude dictate that y0u are n0w the 0ppress0r  
>  CAA: and y0ure n0t sure if y0ure 0kay with that  
>  CAA: in spite 0f the best eff0rts 0f y0ur lusus s0me spark 0f m0rality is still burning in the back 0f y0ur mind  
>  CAA: n0t en0ugh t0 make y0u feel h0rr0r 0ver the lives y0u have just taken  
>  CAA: but en0ugh t0 realize that y0u sh0uld feel h0rrified  
>  CAA: en0ugh t0 make y0u seri0usly w0nder  
>  CAA: whether y0u were better 0ff as the victim  
>  CAA: and that questi0n is what br0ught y0u back t0 the h0use 0f y0ur childh00d  
>  CAA: a time that was n0 better than y0ur present  
>  CAA: but at least was bad in an entirely different way  
>  CAA: 0_0  
>  PAA: was i  
>  CAA: what  
>  PAA: was i better 0ff as the victim  
>  CAA: i cant say and f0r that i am s0rry  
>  CAA: i knew the answer 0nce but i f0rg0t  
>  CAA: i havent th0ught ab0ut it in years

==>

> CAA: if it makes y0u feel any better  
>  CAA: my feelings t0wards that mansi0n are even stranger than y0urs  
>  CAA: i kn0w that this is the last time i will ever see it  
>  CAA: i 0ught t0 be happy ab0ut that but im n0t  
>  CAA: instead i feel just a little bit  
>  CAA: sad

==>

> CAA: kismesis f0r a building  
>  CAA: h0w messed up is that  
>  PAA: pretty bad i supp0se  
>  CAA: maybe there is s0mething seri0usly wr0ng with my think pan  
>  CAA: maybe its been medically damaged by my terrible childh00d and unnaturally l0ng life  
>  PAA: but if y0ure me  
>  PAA: and y0ure crazy  
>  PAA: then that just means that when i bec0me y0u i will be crazy t00  
>  PAA: that d0esnt make me feel better at all  
>  CAA: i didnt think it w0uld  
>  CAA: but it felt g00d saying it 0_0  
>  PAA: y0ure weird  
>  PAA: and im g0ing t0 be weird

>Past Handmaid: Try to ignore your possibly-crazy future self.

You turn away from your strange conversational partner and resume staring at the Felt Manor. Future you doesn't get the hint.

> CAA: let me tell y0u  
>  CAA: ab0ut the years that separate y0u and me  
>  PAA: d0 we escape  
>  CAA: n0  
>  PAA: then i am n0t interested  
>  CAA: it was n0t a request  
>  PAA: 0_0  
>  CAA: f0r a time y0u will d0ubt every w0rd i have t0ld y0u and am g0ing t0 tell y0u  
>  CAA: then y0ur p0wer will gr0w exp0nentially and y0u will kn0w en0ugh t0 n0 l0nger care ab0ut my w0rds  
>  CAA: in the past y0u have heard the future as a whisper fr0m the sky  
>  CAA: s00n y0u will see time itself unf0ld at y0ur fingertips like a star chart  
>  CAA: y0u will see h0w slight the difference between time and space truly is

==>

> CAA: at the dem0ns 0rders y0u will incite rev0luti0ns t0 0verthr0w just rulers  
>  CAA: and will crush uprisings against unjust rulers  
>  CAA: y0u will kill any highbl00d wh0 v0ices d0ubts c0ncerning the hem0spectrum  
>  CAA: y0u will ravage the c0untryside t0 ensure the l0wbl00ds remain in famine and p0verty  
>  CAA: y0u will stain y0ur hands with the bl00d 0f c0untless inn0cents  
>  CAA: but  
>  CAA: n0t always willingly  
>  CAA: y0u will argue with the dem0n  
>  CAA: y0u will refuse certain 0rders 0utright  
>  CAA: and he will t0rture y0u int0 submissi0n  
>  CAA: i believe he ch0se y0u f0r his handmaid specifically because he wanted s0me0ne str0ng-willed  
>  CAA: s0me0ne he w0uld have t0 break bef0re they w0uld serve his purp0se  
>  CAA: because he likes t0 break pe0ple  
>  CAA: yet 0ver the sweeps y0ur perennial defiance will dull even his sadism  
>  CAA: he will gr0w weary 0f y0u  
>  CAA: and wish he had ch0sen s0me0ne else a little m0re receptive t0 training and discipline  
>  CAA: s0 c0ngratulati0ns f0r that  
>  CAA: even th0ugh its ultimately meaningless

>Past Handmaid: Ignore her harder.

It's not working!

> CAA: because eventually y0u will be me  
>  CAA: and i have fulfilled all his 0rders  
>  CAA: save 0ne  
>  CAA: which i will fulfill in less than a quarter-h0ur  
>  CAA: and then i will be free

>Past Handmaid: Contemplate the possibility of screwing destiny via time travel.

> CAA: and n0w y0u are thinking 0f her  
>  CAA: y0urself six sweeps 0ld  
>  CAA: still impris0ned in that mansi0n as we speak  
>  CAA: n0t yet a killer  
>  CAA: y0u w0nder if there is s0mething y0u can d0 t0 help her and theref0re y0urself  
>  CAA: but y0u have already learned that physically escaping fr0m the dem0n is n0t p0ssible  
>  CAA: there is n0where and n0when she can g0 t0 prevent his finding her  
>  CAA: except the afterlife  
>  CAA: y0u recall y0ur m0ments 0f deepest despair when y0u attempted t0 take y0ur 0wn life but were prevented  
>  CAA: y0u w0nder if perhaps y0ur p0wer and hers c0mbined are en0ugh t0 0verp0wer the curse and end her suffering  
>  CAA: and the answer is yes  
>  CAA: it w0uld be trivial f0r y0u t0 kill her  
>  CAA: but it w0uld n0t d0 any g00d  
>  CAA: killing her  
>  CAA: 0r y0urself f0r that matter if it were p0ssible  
>  CAA: w0uld merely create a d00med timeline  
>  CAA: instead 0f sparing her fr0m y0ur future y0u w0uld create a gratuit0us duplicate 0f y0ur past  
>  CAA: i think it a tad arr0gant t0 assume that littering the afterlife with six-sweep-0ld c0pies 0f myself w0uld be a g00d deed  
>  PAA: bl00dy hell dammit

>Past Handmaid: Oh for crying out loud...

> PAA: tell me  
>  PAA: crazy all-kn0wing future me  
>  PAA: in the future d0 i ever shut up  
>  CAA: yes  
>  CAA: quite 0ften in fact  
>  CAA: i havent sp0ken t0 any0ne besides the dem0n since  
>  CAA: since i was y0u 0_0  
>  CAA: isnt it amusingly misf0rtunate that the 0ne chance i get t0 speak t0 s0me0ne else  
>  CAA: i am the s0me0ne else  
>  CAA: its me  
>  CAA: fr0m a m0ment when i am in n0 m00d t0 talk  
>  CAA: 0r t0 listen t0 my 0wn rambling  
>  PAA: yes a real laugh ri0t  
>  CAA: ha  
>  PAA: ha  
>  CAA: ha  
>  PAA: ha  
>  CAA: ha  
>  PAA: y0u d0 realize i am being sarcastic right  
>  CAA: yes but i am n0t  
>  CAA: i can say with c0mplete sincerity that this is the happiest i have been in my life

==>

> PAA: what  
>  PAA: y0u just said s0me 0f the m0st depressing garbage i have ever heard in my life  
>  PAA: and n0w y0ure saying y0ure happy  
>  PAA: either y0u really are diseased in the think pan  
>  PAA: 0r y0ure trying t0 feed me h00fbeast manure  
>  PAA: seri0usly  
>  PAA: y0ure n0t even smiling  
>  CAA: i never learned h0w  
>  CAA: it just l00ks stupid when i try  
>  PAA: 0_0  
>  PAA: clearly speaking with y0u was a mistake  
>  PAA: 0ne i w0nt make again   
> 

>Past Handmaid: Abscond.

An audible crackle and a flash of multicolored light herald your departure. Your spooky talkative future self is left alone on the roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much she hated Doc Scratch, he was the only person who spoke to the Handmaid during her formative sweeps. Thus, she never learned how to speak in an easier-to-read color. That's my headcanon and I'm sticking to it.


	2. How can I call myself a hostess?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last two trolls in the galaxy are not so different from each other. But they're not so alike, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If something the Condesce says strikes you as biologically implausible, you can safely assume that it's wishful thinking on her part.
> 
> (Recommended soundtrack for this chapter: [The Box (Part Two)](http://grooveshark.com/#/s/The+Box+part+2+/3LkdTb?src=5) by Orbital.)

>Be the future Handmaid.

You can't be the future Handmaid because in the future she's dead.

>Oh, right, that other one was the current Handmaid. Be her.

You are now the current Handmaid.

And not a moment too soon. It is time to confront Her Imperious Condescension.

Ha.

Ha.

You can't believe how witty you are.

>Handmaid: Just go already.

You leap. It is unreal how much air you get.

Your trajectory will, with similarly unreal speed, carry you out of the green moon's atmosphere and towards the Battleship Condescension as it passes by.

==>

You do not consider yourself rebellious by nature.

==>

Yes, you fought (if futilely) against your lusus and against the demon's orders, but you believe that this reflects more on their character than on yours. That if their orders had not been reprehensible, you would have carried them out gladly, without the necessity of torture beforehand.

==>

Because you did occasionally receive such instruction. Never from the demon, of course, but from a much quieter voice which, as far as you can tell, the demon knows nothing about. And when you received such instruction, you always took care to follow it to the letter.

==>

As you are now.

Your final order from the demon is to recruit the Condesce for a job, perfectly suited to her skills, which will be opening in the very near future. He did not specify the exact manner in which you should convince her to take the position.

That other, quieter voice did.

>Handmaid: Land already.

You are rapidly approaching the outer hull of the massive red battleship. Unlike the last time you were outside this ship, you are not troubled by the lack of atmosphere; now, your powers make it trivial to traverse the near-void too quickly to experience any ill effects.

You teleport through the hull, reappearing directly in the throne chamber.

The chamber is exactly as you have foreseen it. As is the Condesce... wait, what the hell is she doing?

>Be the Condesce.

Her Imperious Condescension has constructed a fort from wall tiles and pieces of her throne. Safely ensconced within the fort, she is immune to your feeble attempts to be her.

You remain the Handmaid.

>Handmaid: Get the Condesce's attention.

You walk up to the fort and kick at one of the walls. The whole thing promptly collapses. You didn't even kick it that hard. Pretty shoddy fort construction, to be honest.

The Condesce's attention is now fully on you. Her reaction to your presence is the second-strangest one you've seen from any mortal. Her lips briefly twist into a snarl, then her eyebrows furrow in confusion. Then, standing up, she offers you a smile of surprising warmth.

==>

Let it never be said that Her Imperious Condescension couldn't make a stranger feel welcome.

> \--convivialConqueror [CC] began speaking with anachronicAcolyte [AA]\--  
> CC: I must apologize.  
> CC: How can I call myself a )(ostess when my domicile is in suc)( disarray?  
> CC: To w)(om do I owe the pleasure of your visit, miss...  
> AA: intr0ducti0ns are n0t necessary  
> AA: i kn0w wh0 y0u are and y0u kn0w wh0 i am  
> CC: O)(, you've come to deal in riddles, t)(en?  
> CC: I )(ope you're better at it t)(an my usual sort of conversational partner.  
> CC: T)(ose noblebloods, always drubbing in the vicinity of the s)(rubbery, wit)( t)(eir "If it pleases your Imperiousness" and t)(eir "O)( we are not wor)(y".  
> CC: Saying one t)(ing to my face, anot)(er be)(ind my back, and a t)(ird under t)(e interrogator's w)(ip.  
> CC: So tiring!  
> CC: O)(, listen to me ramble.  
> CC: I've been wit)(out anyone besides myself to speak to for so long, I found myself longing even for t)(e obsequious chatter of t)(ose bootlickers.  
> CC: Surely you can sympat)(ize?  
> AA: m0re than y0u realize

==>

> CC: To w)(at do I owe t)(e pleasure of your visit, my mysterious guest?   
> AA: the imminent destructi0n 0f the universe  
> AA: and empl0yment that will all0w y0u t0 escape it  
> AA: y0u claim ign0rance but y0u d0 indeed rec0gnize me  
> AA: fr0m legends and tales t0ld t0 frighten wrigglers  
> AA: everything y0u have heard fr0m th0se st0ries i have d0ne at the 0rder of 0ne wh0 calls himself my master  
> AA: we are rapidly appr0aching the time where my empl0yment will end  
> AA: and y0urs will begin  
> AA: y0u will kill me  
> AA: and take my place as the dem0ns right and left hands   
> CC: Pffffffffffffff...  
> CC: )(-E-E )(-E-E )(-E-E!  
> CC: You really are a TRICKST---ER!   
> AA: y0ur denial runs particularly deep   
>  CC: But really, t)(is employment you speak of is simply RIDICULOUS.

==>

Uh oh, here it comes. She begins slowly walking around you, and she gently, oh so gently, places a hand on your shoulder.

> CC: I am far better suited to be t)(e one giving the orders, not following t)(em. I serve t)(roug)( my leaders)(ip.  
> CC: Mine is a )(igh and lonely service.  
> CC: Per)(aps it need not be so lonely t)(oug)(.  
> CC: Per)(aps I could serve wit)( YOU by my side.

>Handmaid: "Mrs. Condesce, are you trying to seduce me?"

Goodness yes, she totally is. You foresaw that this was going to happen, but there's more than a little difference between foreknowing an event, and Her Imperious Condescension actually draping her arms over your shoulders and whispering things into your ear.

> CC: )(ow would you like to be at t)(e side of the most powerful woman in t)(e galaxy?  
> CC: Just IMAGIN-E w)(at we could do for eac)( ot)(er!

==>

> CC: I can s)(ow you t)(e galaxy. Worlds you can't even dream of!  
> CC: And you can )(elp me rebuild t)(e --EMPIR-E.

 **THIS**

==>

> CC: Toget)(er we can find t)(e ot)(er survivors of t)(e cataclysm  
> CC: And even if you and I are t)(e only ones, t)(at is enoug)( to begin again.  
> CC: To create t)(e troll race anew.

 **IS**

==>

> CC: You know I can extend life wit)( but a touc)(. We will )(ave all t)(e time in t)(e universe.

 _  
**STUPID**   
_

>Handmaid: Tell her where she can shove it.

> AA: are y0u always s0 brazen in y0ur pr0p0siti0ns  
> AA: 0r 0nly with th0se t00 far bel0w y0u to refuse y0ur advances   
> CC: ...  
> CC: W)(at exactly are you implying?   
> AA: i have already served the empire m0re than y0u can imagine  
> AA: a th0usand times in alternias hist0ry the empire w0uld have fallen if n0t f0r my interventi0n  
> AA: undermining rebelli0ns that w0uld have usurped y0u  
> AA: exp0sing assassins wh0 w0uld have killed y0u  
> AA: and weakening every tyrian-bl00d wh0 might have successfully challenged you t0 the thr0ne  
> AA: i did all 0f this 0n the dem0ns 0rders and n0w that he has n0 further use f0r it  
> AA: i will be damned bef0re i serve y0ur empire again

==>

You see the Condesce is idly fingering the handle of her imperial culling fork. You continue speaking regardless.

> AA: y0ur tr0ll empire is dead  
> AA: it has been dead s0 l0ng that a new civilizati0n grew fr0m its ruins and is n0w itself dead  
> AA: and frankly y0ur dev0ti0n t0 this dream  
> AA: it  
> AA: 0_0  
> AA: y0u were trained from grubh00d for a specific and terrible purp0se  
> AA: y0u are in this m0ment free fr0m that purp0se  
> AA: yet y0u wish n0thing m0re than t0 return

==>

The Condesce is still smiling at you, but her lips have pulled back to reveal her teeth. Her many rows of very sharp teeth. Her grip on the culling fork is causing her knuckles to grow pale.

> AA: s0 i wish n0thing m0re t0 d0 with y0u

>Handmaid: Leave.

You turn and begin to walk away. You could have teleported, but communicating your intention of leaving is, in this case, more important than actually leaving.

> CC: You may not leave! I do not permit it!  
> CC: I am your -EMPR---ESS!  
> CC: Do not turn your back on me!

==>

> CC: Rustblood!  
> CC: Come back )(ere t)(is glubbing instant if you value your pat)(etic life.

You work that middle finger like a pro.

==>

You must admit that the long, lonely voyage back to Alternia has improved the Condesce's ability to relate to the lower classes. Six centuries prior, the conversation you just held could never have happened; if you had entered her throne chamber unbidden, she would have ordered your execution before you even had a chance to speak.

Speaking of execution, the Condesce is currently charging towards you with her imperial culling fork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Condesce/Empire is my OTP.
> 
> \----
> 
> So, a funny thing happened while I was writing this story. In my first draft, this chapter did not exist, or rather it was so short that I gave no consideration to splitting it from the chapter that follows. The "conversation" between the Handmaid and the Condesce wasn't really a conversation, it was the two of them simultaneously monologuing at each other, and it was over very fast. Then I read [A Sailorman's Hymn](http://archiveofourown.org/works/240010/chapters/368909), whose Condesce's few paragraphs of screentime made me vividly aware of just how _flat_ a character _my_ Condesce was. I was forced to give some real thought to the personality of a galactic conqueror (who would later become Betty Crocker), and to her motivations for returning to the center of her now-dead empire. And how to make this Condesce raise her culling fork against the Handmaid. I skimmed the surface of the answers to those questions, and suddenly there was enough material for a separate chapter.
> 
> What I'm saying is: (1) read [A Sailorman's Hymn](http://archiveofourown.org/works/240010/chapters/368909) if you haven't already, and (2) I hope someone out there is as weirded out as I was when the Condesce started flirting with the Handmaid.


	3. An undisputed master of clockwork majyyks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Make her pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Recommended soundtrack for this chapter: [Way Out](http://grooveshark.com/#/s/Way+Out/1PqR9i?src=5) by Orbital.)

>Handmaid: Is this part of the plan?

It is a biological fact almost without exception that trolls in every rung of the hemospectrum are faster and stronger than those below them. The Condesce is, of course, at the very top of the hemospectrum, and would thus serve as a very deadly opponent in melee combat even for a fellow sea-dweller. Or an unfathomably dangerous opponent for a troll as far down the hemospectrum as you.

Really, if you were anyone other than an undisputed master of clockwork majyyks, you would already be dead.

Ha.

Ha.

Man, you're on a roll with these jokes tonight.

>Handmaid: Be the troll who is the lowblood who is the undisputed master of clockwork majyyks.

With something approximating pleasure.

The Condesce does not see you turn around and leap. She only feels the force of your foot, with your entire forward momentum (augmented by judicious warping of space-time) behind it, against her stomach: force enough to expel the breath from her gills and to reverse her forward movement. The culling fork flies out of her hands as she soars backwards through the air.

==>

You wonder briefly whether it would be arrogance on your part to enjoy this too much.

It seems the Condesce managed to land on her feet, and is already regaining her balance.

==>

After all, even though she truly deserves the violence you're inflicting, it's not as though you're a paragon of morality yourself. Hardly the sort of person who could claim to be a representative of justice. If justice is at work here, it is simply using you as its tool. Possibly because every other tool in the chest broke centuries ago.

Before she can recover enough to attempt anything, you deliver another flying kick with the same force, only this time to her face. You're no doctor, but you think it's possible you just broke her jaw.

==>

You hope that justice is what's at work here. You hope that your decision to listen to the other voice now, as you have in the past, mitigates your work for the demon in some slight way. Because otherwise your entire life will amount to nothing more than the punchline for some cosmic joke. And not even a particularly funny one. Oh well.

Now she's about to collapse on the floor. You won't be having any of that. You grab the collar of her fashionable wetsuit with your left hand, holding her up at a convenient punching height.

>Handmaid: Show her your punches.

One is more than enough, really. Oh, that jaw is definitely broken now.

You take a moment to admire the Condesce's glasses. Six centuries ago, they fetched a higher price than a dozen luxury scuttlebuggies, and you can understand why. You admire their exquisite frames, hand-crafted from precious metals mined from a planet that no longer exists. You admire the arc that the glasses trace through the air after the force of your punch knocked them off her face. You admire the tiny, gemlike fragments they shatter into as they strike the floor. Beautiful.

>Handmaid: That's enough kicking and punching.

You couldn't agree more. It's time for telekinetic violence.

With your mind, you lift the Condesce off the ground and hurl her towards the back end of the battleship. (Aft? Stern? You can never keep that spacemonautical terminology straight.) You lose count of how many walls she smashes through before she stops moving.

==>

You lift her again and fling her at an angle upward. She bounces off the upper hull of the ship and breaks a few more walls before landing on the floor back in the throne chamber.

You weren't even trying to make her land there. How amusing.

==>

You lift her off the floor and...

Ugh. Him.

The demon's voice rings in your head louder than any sound in the universe possibly could. As if the words, in giant, flickering letters of some hideously alien and barely legible alphabet, had physically manifested and wedged themselves into your cognition sponge. In fact, you can't rule out the possibility that he's communicating with you in precisely that fashion.

You do not reply to him audibly. Instead, you turn to where you dropped the Condesce's body and dip your hand in the widening pool of blood surrounding her. You flick your wrist downward, and the tyrian spatters on the floor spell out your answer.

quit b0ssing me ar0und  
d0uchebag  
i kn0w what im d0ing

==>

That seems to have shut him up.

Actually, you can't feel him at all. This is a first.

Ever since you entered his employment, the demon has been present in the back of your mind. Even when he wasn't speaking he would just hover there and watch. And now he isn't.

==>

Come to think of it, you don't recall feeling the demon's presence in the last few minutes either. You apparently never noticed the moment he first departed, and then he returned just long enough to boss you around a little more, and then he disappeared again.

This is profoundly unexpected behavior for the tool who feels the need to remind every damn person he ever speaks to that he's "already here".

==>

You gain a vague sense that, in pursuing this line of thought, you are deviating from some cosmic script which had been guiding your actions until this point. Of course, if there's any truth to this vague sense, then it's entirely too late for any deviations from the script to mean anything. You decide to get back on schedule posthaste.

In any case, you're more than okay with the demon's unexplained departure. You know what they say about looking a gift hoofbeast in the mouth.

==>

You turn back to the Condesce, and you decide that perhaps that interruption was for the best. She's not in any shape to take more abuse from you. One of her arms is missing, and the angles of her remaining limbs suggest multiple fractures. She's motionless except for her breathing, which sounds shallow and ragged.

You take a closer look at her face. One of her eyes was pierced by shrapnel, but her other eye is still open, darting to and fro. It meet your gaze. It does not narrow with anger, as you expect it to. It widens with fear. You don't know how you feel about this.

>Handmaid: Do the thing that you know what you're doing.

You take a cuestickwand in each hand. The clockwork majyyks you've cast so far in this scuffle are mere grub's play compared to the fraymotif you're about to unleash.

The one fact which outsiders to the field of xenochronoscatalogistics most frequently fail to understand is this: In the dimension of time, it is far, far easier to move the entire universe than it is to hold the universe immobile while moving a grain of sand. The former is a relatively simple matter of stepping outside the universe briefly and applying a nudge to the crank turning the cosmic music box. The latter involves stepping outside the universe, disassembling said music box to a subatomic level, and then reassembling it to create notes it never played before.

This fraymotif, Chronoclysm, would (as a theoretical upper limit) allow its user to hold the universe immobile while simultaneously and independently moving every grain of sand in every desert, ever.

==>

And, as implied by that metaphor, successfully executing Chronoclysm requires a truly supertrollian degree of finesse and concentration.

Naturally, the side effects of the fraymotif include enough pointless, flashy pyrotechnics to light up the entire battleship like Fourth Perigee Eve.

==>

Your application of Chronoclasm is somewhat non-standard. Like the majority of fraymotifs, it was initially designed for offensive use, such as causing every soldier in an enemy army to suffer premature heart failure. Strategic or support applications, such as altering a battlefield to your advantage or temporally reverting a teammate to heal their injuries, were devised later. You, however, are about to do something that no sane user has ever considered, and temporally revert an enemy you've just defeated. Because your orders were to recruit Her Imperious Condescension for the demon's service, and she's of no use in her current state.

Her numerous skeletal fractures: un-broken; her missing arm: un-severed; her injured eye: un-pierced; her perforated chitinous trachea: un-punctured; the massive volume of blood scattered about the battleship: returned to the interior of her collapsing and expanding bladder based aquatic vascular system, which you also took the liberty of un-lacerating.

Her brain? Well, you'll fix any damage you caused from all that head trauma, but you're not reverting her memories. This entire ass-kicking will be for naught if she doesn't remember any of it. You want her to admit, if only to herself, that she knows exactly who you are. More importantly, if she's going to attack you, you want her to do so for the right reasons.

==>

You even modify the imperial culling fork while you're at it. Nothing major; you merely tweak its metal composition to something more practical for a weapon. You then return it to her hands.

==>

There. You're no doctor, but you're certain she's as good as new, aside from possible psychological scarring.

Speaking of good as new, the Condesce is currently charging at you with her imperial culling fork. Again.

>Handmaid: Be the troll who is the lowblood who is the undisputed master of clockworks majyyks. Again.

No.

>Handmaid: Auto-parry.

No.

>Handmaid: Abscond?

No.

>Handmaid: Do something!

No.

>Handmaid: She's going to kill you.

Yeah, that's the idea.

>Handmaid: Fine then, stand there and let her kill you.

If you were anyone other than an undisputed master of clockwork majyyks, the speed with which Her Imperious Condescension charges at you would be frightening.

Instead, you take your last moment alive to admire the imperial culling fork. It's even more expensive than the Condesce's glasses were. (Speaking of which, it appears that you neglected to repair those when you cast Chronoclysm. Oh well.) You admire the subtle grace of its tines, forged from different precious metals, mined from a different planet that no longer exists (and, thanks to your modification, now strong enough to impale a musclebeast as if it were a cuttlefish). You admire the path that the points trace through the air, bobbing slightly up and down as the Condesce runs. You admire the gemlike reflection of the light of the pink moon off the fork's polished oh hell you remember this.

This has already happened before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Show him your stabs" is my least favorite _Homestuck_ meme, and here I go referencing it in my own fanfic. I'm such a hypocrite.


	4. Every ending is also a beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Recommended soundtrack for this chapter: [Times Fly (Fast)](http://grooveshark.com/#/s/Times+Fly+fast+/3JXs9K?src=5) by Orbital.)

>Handmaid: Die?

You can't die because you are already dead.

The culling fork impales you as if you were a cuttlefish, just like it did back when you really died. This time, at least, it doesn't hurt. And you remain conscious.

>Be the Condesce.

That's not the Condesce, that's just a construct of the Handmaid's memory. And you can't be her because she disappeared as soon as the Handmaid realized that this is all happening in her head.

You are still the Handmaid. You yank the culling fork out of your chest and toss it aside. Over the sweeps, you've lost count of how many times this dress has been stained with blood, but this is the first time the blood in question has been your own.

>Handmaid: Look around you.

There's not much to see, really. This just looks like the imperial throne chamber. The one you died in.

You had always hoped that, if there were an afterlife, it would be better than your first life. What you've seen so far has been pretty disappointing in that regard, although whoever is running the show at least had the good taste to choose one of your better memories to relive.

>Handmaid: Look around you.

Back when you were alive, the moment of your death was a veil beyond which even your powers could see nothing. Now, you're surprised to realize that your timefold vision does still work beyond that veil.

But time works differently here, and it's hella confusing, even for you. Before, you could unfold time at your fingertips like a star chart. Here, time is interconnected in some non-Euclidean fashion that defies your attempts to unfold it.

>Handmaid: Just look around you.

You've already looked...

Wait, how long has that girl been standing there?

==>

She looks remarkably like you did when you were six sweeps old. Except she has wings. So you're absolutely certain that she's not you from the past, and reasonably certain that she's not you from the future, either.

And that smile on her face. She looks far too happy to be you from any conceivable time period.

Whoever she is, you can't help but admire her for having the moxie to wear that ridiculous red fairy outfit in public.

> \-- anachronicAcolyte [AA]  began speaking with  apocalypseArisen [AA] \--   
> AA: y0ure n0t 0ne 0f my mem0ries   
> AA: nope!   
> AA: what are y0u then   
> AA: im the maid of time  
> AA: my names aradia  
> AA: and i think you may be my ancestor   
> AA: 0_0  
> AA: yes that seems very likely  
> AA: my lusus t0ld me a little ab0ut y0u  
> AA: please tell me  
> AA: have y0u ever been empl0yed by a time traveling dem0n   
> AA: what an odd question!  
> AA: im pretty sure everyone on alternia has been a pawn in lord englishs scheme at some point or other and im no exception   
> AA: but have y0u 0beyed his direct 0rders  
> AA: have y0u heard his v0ice   
> AA: no  
> AA: but i listened to the voices of the dead  
> AA: and i think some of them were me?   
> AA: i am s0 pr0ud 0f y0u
> 
>   
> 

==>

> AA: so you really are the demoness from all those legends   
> AA: yes   
> AA: youre not like i would have expected  
> AA: the stories told me that you would be scary  
> AA: and you are  
> AA: but they didnt tell me you would be so sad   
> AA: that  
> AA: that certainly is a way t0 describe me   
> AA: but you dont have to be!  
> AA: your story has ended  
> AA: and every ending is also a beginning  
> AA: there's no reason to be afraid or sad anymore   
> AA: what  
> AA: you can see the future the same as i can  
> AA: look there and youll see :)

==>

> AA: t0 be h0nest i am n0t used t0 h0w time w0rks here  
> AA: i try t0 straighten it 0ut but it w0nt  
> AA: i turn it f0ldways and  
> AA: it just  
> AA: bluh   
> AA: no youre doing it wrong silly  
> AA: like this

==>

> AA: did y0u just make it int0  
> AA: an 0rigami animal   
> AA: yes a horned woolbeast   
> AA: that is incredibly silly  
> AA: 0_0  
> AA: and actually kind 0f cute

==>

> AA: h0w ab0ut we g0 s0mewhere else  
> AA: i w0uld like t0 see s0me mem0ries besides my 0wn   
> AA: that is a good idea  
> AA: follow me

==>

Aradia strides confidently up to the double doors at the front of the chamber and pushes them open. Beyond the doorway, the interior of the Battleship Condescension simply ends; stepping through, you find yourself on a grassy plain. Before you stands a lone hive, humble but not without some charm.

> AA: heres my hive   
> AA: it l00ks nice  
> AA: wh0 made th0se h0les surr0unding it   
> AA: i did   
> AA: s0 theyre traps t0 ensnare intruders   
> AA: nope  
> AA: i was practicing to become an archeologist   
> AA: well this pit seems t0 have ensnared s0me0ne regardless   
> AA: what? oh  
> AA: what are you doing down there?   
> \-- DOOMED apocalypseArisen [DAA]  joined the conversation with  ALPHA apocalypseArisen [AAA]  and  anachronicAcolyte [AA] \--   
> DAA: reacquainting myself with an old hobby

==>

This new person flies out of the hole to join you. Initially she had appeared to be a robot modeled after a troll, but now you can see that she is a flesh-and-blood troll. One with a remarkable resemblance to your fairy guide troll, and by extension, you.

You begin to wonder just how many strange doppelgängers of you there are in this afterlife.

You also wonder where she got that nice hat.

>   
> DAA: whos the visitor?   
> AAA: shes our ancestor  
> AAA: oh how rude of me  
> AAA: i never asked you your name   
> AA: 0h  
> AA: every0ne called me the handmaid  
> AA: 0r the dem0ness but i liked that name even less   
> DAA: o_o  
> DAA: we can think up a better name for you later if youd like   
> AA: that s0unds nice   
> AAA: anyway  
> AAA: this is me from a doomed timeline   
> DAA: hello
> 
>   
> 

==>

Aradia (the first one, in red) turns away from you suddenly. You try to follow her gaze to see what caught her attention, but it disappears before you can get a good look. Aradia turns back, and now the smile on her face isn't quite as wide as it was before.

> AAA: oh dear the others need me now  
> AAA: i really must be going  
> AAA: i promise ill come visit again the first chance i get   
> AA: what   
> DAA: take care of yourself   
> \-- ALPHA apocalypseArisen [AAA]  ceased speaking with  DOOMED apocalypseArisen [DAA] and  anachronicAcolyte [AA] \--

Aradia does not walk or fly away. She simply vanishes in a flash of white light.

You turn back to the Aradia from the doomed timeline. While you were looking away, she apparently turned back into a robot.

>   
> AA: what just happened there   
> DAA: oh shes still alive  
> DAA: she has something important to do back in the land of the living  
> DAA: im a bit out of the loop since i died but it doesnt concern us anyway so oh well   
> AA: 0h 

==>

You have nothing else to say, and apparently neither does Aradia, so both of you regard each other in silence.

It dawns on you that this Aradia, unlike the first you met, has not smiled once since you met her. You suspect that this is why you hadn't recognized the two of them as alternate-timeline clones until it was pointed out to you, and you wonder what circumstances could have caused them diverge so.

Okay, now the silence is starting to make you uncomfortable.

>Be Aradiabot.

It dawns on you that your ancestor has not smiled once since you met her. You at least can blame your own stoic façade on the fact that you were a ghost for a solar sweep; you wonder what circumstances could have made her so taciturn.

Okay, now the silence is starting to make you uncomfortable.

>Be the Handmaid. Handmaid: Break the uncomfortable silence.

> AA: s0  
> AA: y0u are a r0b0t   
> DAA: youre the demoness   
> AA: ha   
> DAA: haha   
> AA: ha   
> DAA: hahaha   
> AA: ha   
> DAA: hahaha  
> DAA: i think we're going to get along splendidly  
> AA: s0 d0 i

>Handmaid: Get along splendidly.

> DAA: let me show you  
> DAA: how to dig for artifacts   
> AA: s0unds fun

  
In one hand, she materializes a leather bag and hands it to you. Judging by its weight, it seems to be filled with tools. In her other hand, she materializes a wide-brimmed white hat, identical to the one she's wearing. She places it on your head.

> DAA: there  
> DAA: the essential gear of an archeologist  
> DAA: lets go

  
>Handmaid: Smile.

0u0

You look stupid.

But that's okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
